^^^that is the title of a pseudo memoir by George Orwell that resonated eerily with me… in Vienna and Interlaken. Paris and London have put me on the up on up. Here’s why!!
Things to do in Paris:
-Get moist. Repeatedly.
-See a certain new independent film by a certain director… i.e. Mysterious Skin by Gregg Araki, and then see that said theatre is playing a certain retrospective of a certain director’s work…
-See FUCKING NOWHERE ON THE BIG SCREEN (while wearing your homemade nowhere shirt, of course, you geek)
-See above said movies with French subtitles “toi tarzan, moi jane!”
-realize it is okay to laugh at the end of Nowhere
really, there were other pretty things, but how the hell can I compete with two Gregg Araki films with French subtitles in an actual movie theatre?
Oh, and if for some reason the English movie 9 songs ever escapes to the states or is recommended… NO. Augh. I should have walked out or seen the new Woody Allen film instead. Here’s the (actual) plot:
-Matt meets Lisa at a concert (super pop motorcycle club cult?)
-sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a concert
-sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a concert
-sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a concert
-sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a concert
-kinky sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a concert
-sex
-Matt attends a concert by himself
-makeup sex
-Matt and Lisa attend a classical concert on Matt’s birthday
-Lisa says she’s going to America
-sex
-Matt attends a concert by same band as above, alone
-sex, I mean, Matt leaves for the Antartic because it is symbolic of love
some of the concerts included: Dandy Warhols, Franz Ferdinand, Super Furry Animals, and fuckall else. augh.
edit and more!
I tried to walk around London, but the marathon has cut the town in two. It is too too too hard to get to anything exciting (and I am lazy). I did go to the Saatchi Gallery again. Afterwards I purchased a waffle and ice cream and tried to sit in a park and enjoy it. A bum/drunkard/homeless guy stood by me for awhile, so I grabbed my bag strap. He sat down and tried to tug the bag away from me, saying he wasn’t a “teef.” He wasn’t like dat. Then I felt uncomfortable while he watched me eat and made hand gestures. Eventually I got up, threw the last half of waffle away, and wandered around feeling really uncomfortable for awhile.
Some day I’ll laugh.